


Penumbra

by T J Feardorcha (MonsterTesk)



Series: The Sounds of Pulling Heaven Down [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Existentialism is only good when you're drunk, Gen Fic, Rumination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterTesk/pseuds/T%20J%20Feardorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Within the shadow but outside of the eclipse. Some, but not all, of the sun's light is blocked and the eclipse is partial. With less and less of the sun obscured the farther one travels from the shadow's center.</p><p> </p><p>Stiles knows a lot about the moon.<br/>He doesn't think he'll ever know enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penumbra

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly drunk-writing. I'll keep you updated.

His legs are up on the dashboard, shoes abandoned somewhere under his seat, and street lamps periodically spray enough light through the windshield to highlight the shape of his legs and how his shorts wrinkle. He's staring at the moon (a waxing crescent, he really can't believe how much time has gone by) with the fixed stare of someone only just barely awake.

"You know, your mom used to do that, too."  
He doesn't turn his head away, there's no point to. His dad's eyes will be fixed solidly on the road ahead of them. Sometimes they're both careful of eye contact.  
"On the ride home from trips, she'd kick her shoes off, put her feet up and fold her hands in her lap just like that and stare out the window."  
"Yeah, she'd stick her feet out the window. I remember."  
"Sometimes you remind me of her."  
Stiles smiled, letting out a tired but hopefully happy sound.  
He could remember the way his mom's dark hair had seemed to burn when she stood in front of the sun, looking down on Stiles and smiling as he held up his hands. She used to grab his hands and rub her thumbs across his knuckles. Her nose would wrinkle and she'd say "My, what big hands you have." Stiles' chest would swell and he'd tell her all about what he'd been doing while she hadn't been near. It always seemed imperative to share with her his little child-world.  
They used to take walks together through the woods. She taught him about bird calls and animal tracks and how to walk with the forest. They'd leave their shoes tucked under a bush and walk around barefoot. She taught him how to climb pine trees and what was safe to touch or eat. They'd lift rocks and let worms crawl across their hands and beetles would scurry across their feet. He remembers the way her nose would scrunch up as she tried not to laugh when he'd put insects on her toes.  
She never yelled at him when he'd twist his dirt covered hands into her clothes and leave muddy handprints on her arms or legs. She'd help roll up his pant legs so they could wade through the creeks and peek at the fish and frogs and other things that lived in the waters. She taught him how to relax his feet so that he would slip less on mossy rocks and encouraged him to climb trees as fast as he could.  
She'd chase him through the woods, laughing and yelling that she'd get him and gobble him up. When she did catch him she'd carefully tackle him to the ground and playfully bite his belly until his face turned red with laughter.  
Then he'd chase her and he almost never caught her unless she let him. She'd laugh and he'd twist his fingers into her clothes and she would scoop him up and twirl him around until they were both dizzy and breathless.  
He remembered how she'd lay down on the lawn with him at night and whisper stories about the night sky and the world.  
She told him about Chronos and Lupernicus; she told him about Io and Hestia, about Artemis and Apollo, and herds of cows that sun gods kept and the sly things Hermes did to succeed. She compared Loki to Coyote to Hermes to Crow and would compare traditional fairy tales to the ones Disney produced.

He was thinking of the phases of the moon. Had been all month since he left. He was happy to be back home again and happier that they were coming back on the same phase of the moon that they had left under. It felt like they had gone no where at all. Maybe Oberon and Titania had taken his father and him away for the night and when he woke up all that had passed since last time he was in Beacon Hills had been nothing but a dream.  
The crescent of the moon looked like the tilt of a cheshire smile. He knew that soon the moon would wax into first quarter and after that would continue into a gibbous until the angle of the moon, the orbit of the Earth, and the position of the sun would light the full moon. Stiles knew that even though it was called a full moon that only half the moon was lit. He knew that at all times only half the moon was lit. Never any more, never any less.

Stiles' dad pulled into the driveway of their house, putting the car in park and leaning over the steering wheel to look up at the sky.  
"It's so nice out, it's been such a long drive. How'd you feel about a bit of a walk?"  
"Yeah, that sounds good."

When they got to the edge of the woods, Stiles kicked off his shoes and left them under a familiar bush. His dad had raised his eyebrows but only frowned when Stiles had simply grinned and shrugged by way of explanation. The narrow slice of moon was unusually bright and afforded them just enough light to travel slowly down a path that would probably always be familiar to the both of them. They stopped in a clearing not far in that had a slanted mound just high enough and steep enough to act as a seat.  
Stiles tilted his head back and stared at the moon.  
"Mom told me this story once about the moon."  
His dad made a noise of inquiry next to him.  
"It's about how lonely the moon is and how wolves sing to it to let it know it's not alone."  
"I remember that one."  
"The feel of the pull,"  
"So lonely and far,"  
"A tide of despair,"  
"In the hearts of the wolves,"  
"Pulled out of their mouths,"  
"By the site of the beautifully lonely moon."  
"I've never found that anywhere else. I've looked."  
"You won't find it anywhere. She wrote it herself."  
"I didn't know she wrote."  
"I have a couple of her journals somewhere. If you want I can pull them out. She has a whole one dedicated to the moon."  
"Yeah, I'd like that."  
Stiles' dad smiles beside him. Stiles closes his eyes and concentrates on the cool radiance of the night around them. The Buck Moon was coming up and that seemed like a great time to come out into the woods and surround himself with his mother's words once again. He knows already which one he'll start with.

 


End file.
